


Greg House and Winters

by supergaynb



Category: House M.D.
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Autistic Greg House, I'm Bad At Tagging, John House's A+ Parenting, M/M, Past Child Abuse
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-22
Updated: 2020-11-22
Packaged: 2021-03-09 23:14:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,079
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27673874
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/supergaynb/pseuds/supergaynb
Summary: Greg House reflects upon his most memorable winters.
Relationships: Greg House/James Wilson, past Greg House/Stacy Warner
Comments: 4
Kudos: 61





	Greg House and Winters

**Author's Note:**

> Sorry if there is any grammatical errors, I didn't beta read this.

A toddler aged Greg House, chubby cheeked and always smiled at his mother, was taken to specialists to find out why he didn't talk and why he always cried when he was hugged. That December a doctor told Blythe and John House that their son had autism. When they got home, John House drank and scolded and screamed at a young Greg as he spilled a cup of water. That was the first argument John and Blythe had in their marriage, Blythe comforting her son and wiping the tears falling down his cheeks.

  
A young Greg House, 13 years old and awfully tiny and frail for his age, tried to ignore his shivering, the cold air of winter nipping at his limbs. He curled into himself, trying desperately to stay warm. He cursed himself for having to make a snappy response at school to his teacher, calling her a moron and walking out to go use the restroom. He came back into the classroom to his teacher calling his father, and for the rest of the day the dread set in his stomach as he knew he was getting shoved in a freezing death bucket of water and ice. He didn't expect to be condemned outside in the middle of winter as it snowed, to cry and beg at the steps of his porch to come back inside and at least dry off. He sobbed for an hour before climbing through the broken boards of underneath the porch. He settled in the dirt, wiping his eyes with his damp sleeves.

A young Greg House knew no matter how much he prayed, that he was going to be forced to go to church and go back to school like he wasn't constantly being tortured at home, that some of his only meals came from school lunch and swiping things from stores and from other peoples' lunch trays, and that his second bedroom was underneath his porch where he always slept caked in mud and woke to his father shining a light through the boards at the crack of dawn and barked orders for him to shower and be on time for breakfast.

  
A young Greg House still shivered as he reached around for a flashlight he stole and buried in the dirt so his father never saw. He smacked the clunky flashlight and pointed it into his eyes until the light began to flicker and burn his eyes. He quickly flashed it around and found where he had covered a book in a thin shawl in the dirt. He plucked it fast, wrapping his shoulders in the filthy cloth and he pointed the flashlight as his book. He smiled for the first time since he got to his home, reading quietly to himself his favorite biology book as he bounced his legs and blowed his breath on his blue tipped fingers.

  
A slightly older Greg House, 17 and still bony and skinny for his stature, kissed another boy in the bathroom of his winter dance. He went home that night with a slight shame, being raised to be a manly man and to grow up and get married to a girl and go into the military. But Greg House didn't like the military, as the interest that captivated his heart has always been biology and medicine. His book shelves were filled with books about diseases and anatomy and his father always burst into his room in anger as he stayed up past lights out to read and study. And Greg House didn't love girls as much as he did boys, sure he had a girlfriend a year ago, but he always found his heart taken by one of the jocks he played football with.

  
A year older Greg House, 18 and accepted into college, had already pissed off his father by not going into the marines. As Greg House picked at his dinner, he cleared his throat and said he thought he was gay. That was last and longest ice bath of his life, he shivered and sobbed as his mother cried and begged for it to stop. For once in his life, Greg House found his confidence and bolted out the bath, ignoring his father's threats and his mothers begging and packed a bag of his clothes and his beloved biology textbook and left his home, checking into a motel and cried the entire night on the shitty bed of his motel room.

  
A 34 year old Greg House watched a chestnut haired doctor with the sweetest smile take a wedding ring off his finger and carry around a thick, yellow envelope in his hands at a convention. House followed this man to a bar, where he order a beer and and listened to the same Billy Joel song. The doctor he shadowed at the convention shattered a mirror after yelling at some other man at the jukebox. House knew that he had to follow that cop car and empty his wallet to pay that handsome doctor's bail.

6 years later, Greg House clung to his best friend, his face stained with dry tears as his leg ached and the pain of his leg and Stacy leaving him tore him. Stacy and him didn't even have a great relationship during the last few months, the relationship filled with malice and hatred on both sides, but he still missed her. That Christmas, a 35 year old Greg House sat on his couch with James Wilson, the most handsome man he's ever seen, and kissed him. For the first time in a really long time, he felt happy, happy being with Wilson and abstaining from any sort of holiday, the day being just for them.

An older Greg House, now 45 and warm and bundled up with the only person that truly mattered to him and a cup of tea said person insisted he make for House, stared at the faded, old book on his bookshelf. He remembered vividly his first night of being locked outside in the winter, feeling colder than he ever imagined possible. He remembered the pain that winter brought with it's horrid snow and bitter winds, how many painful memories tied with the season. "House? Are you okay?" House looked down at Wilson's hand as it tangled with his own. House smiled freely, his fingers a light pink and flooded with warmth. He glanced over to Wilson, grinning as he squeezed his hand. "Yeah, I'm okay now."


End file.
